


Brighter than the Sun

by youreyestheyglow



Series: Christmas Stories 2k15 [3]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Bob's Burgers Crossover, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Sunburn, aged up to 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:52:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killua gets sunburned, and the Zoldycks are too busy flipping burgers to take care of him. Gon does it instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [achump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/achump/gifts).



> Celeste requested killugon porn. I thought a BB au would be great. I aged the kids up specifically for pornographic purposes, got to the porn scene, and realized that I'm 20 and the kids are 14 and even aged up it's a sin, so this is entirely free of porn. Enjoy.

I scoop sand onto Gon’s foot.

He doesn’t wake up.

I grab another handful and let it trickle out, grain by grain, onto Gon’s leg.

He doesn’t even twitch.

I borrow a bucket from Palm, the weird woman who can consistently be found building sandcastles on the beach, and dump an entire bucketful of sand onto Gon’s stomach.

“Palm, wanna help cover a human in sand?”

“No.”

“All right, then. Guess it’s up to me.”

She helps me cover Gon in sand. The only thing I can see by the time we’re done is his face.

“I could build a sandcastle on him, if you’d like.”

“No, then he’d sit there for three hours worrying about how to get up without hurting the sandcastle.”

“All right, then. I’ll build one next to him.”

“Okay.”

I sit down and watch Palm build. She starts with basic cylinders, in all different sizes, in whatever arrangement strikes her fancy. She uses a shovel for the big changes – lopping off half a cylinder, creating a slope the size of my foot – and her fingers for the smaller changes – making a door, excavating stairs, drawing tiny designs on the walls.

I hear Gon wake up, because he tries to get up and says _oof_ when he can’t. I lean over so that he can see me. “Good morning!”

He grins. “Good afternoon, Killua!” He strains for a second. I think I’ve finally found a way of rendering Gon’s muscles useless: lots and lots of wet, heavy sand.

Gon sits up.

Sand falls in sheets off his torso. Gon takes a minute to brush tiny grains off his abs and biceps before I stand up and jump feet first into the gloriously cold ocean, reflecting on my old hopes and dreams and how dead they are: “ _Maybe once I get past puberty this’ll stop happening!” “Maybe once I graduate high school Gon’ll stop looking so hot!” “Maybe this summer I’ll grow immune to the fact that Gon has been working out since he was 12!”_ I’m holding out a little bit of hope for _maybe when we turn 50 I’ll be able to look at him without things happening_. I sigh. _Don’t forget_ , I remind myself, _he’s 18 years old. He’s basically at his hottest right now. He’ll get ugly soon._

Gon himself bounds into the water, dunking his head under and coming up laughing. “I must’ve been out for a while! How long did it take you to pile all that sand on?”

I avoid looking at him. Gon in the water is not what I need right now. “Only five minutes. Palm helped, and we used her buckets.”

I look at him.

Gon in the water is _not_ what I need. Now, or ever. Ever. Under any circumstances. Christ.

“You’re bright red, Killua, have you been putting on sunscreen?”

_Yeah, right, like that’s sunburn._ “Yeah, but I burn easily.”

“It looks bad.” He actually sounds _worried_. I’ve been blushing like this since I met him, and he’s _worried_.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten over worse.”

“Are – are you sure? Was I really only out for five minutes?”

“It’s – Gon, I’m _blushing_!” I hiss as I round on him. My face is as hot as a frying pan mid-use.

He points down. “Is your stomach blushing, too?”

I look down.

My stomach is bright red.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Maybe it’s time to go home.”

I follow him out of the ocean onto fiery shifting sands. He walks over them like he was born to walk on them, like he got the ability to walk on sand along with his dark skin. He was meant to be here, at the beach, on the sand, in the water. I was meant to be in a dark cavern, preferably one with wifi and a few warm blankets. I should never have come into the sun. I can feel it now that I’m thinking about it – the sunburn, on my legs and arms and shoulders and back and stomach and face and –

Gon wraps a soaking wet towel around my shoulders, gently, like I’m about to fall apart. He picks up our basket, our clothes, our other towels, and throws them all over one arm.

I can’t believe this.

I mean, I’m strong, all right? Definitely strong. I’ve got muscles. I can impress everyone in any gym. I lift. But Gon is on a totally different level. I grew tall and lean; he grew short and stocky. Then again, I can’t even really say that he’s short – he’s just shorter than _I_ am. He’s tall and muscular and he could probably pick up a mountain if he wanted and I fail every day to understand how on earth he’s single. Not that I’m not happy about that. I am. But maybe, if he got a boyfriend, I’d calm the fuck down?

Honestly, though, watching his skin glisten in the sunlight, I don’t think I’d get over him even if he killed a kitten.

Ok. Maybe that would do it. Maybe.

 He turns to grin at me over his shoulder. “You look adorable, all wrapped up like that.”

_Please, God, let me be sunburned. Let me stay sunburned forever. The worse the burn, the harder it is to tell when I’m blushing._ “Gee, thanks.”

“No problem, Killua!”

He opens the car door for me, helps me in, closes the door after me. He drives as slowly as he can the whole ride home, avoiding every possible pothole.

We pull into the little parking lot behind Zoldyck Burger Flippers. Gon extracts my stuff from the mess in the back and walks me around the building and in through the front door.

“Shit, Killu, what did you do to yourself?” Milluki asks, reeling away from me like I’m wearing a sign that says _otakus are gross pedophiles_.

“Got burnt, what does it look like?” There isn’t an ounce of malice in my voice; Milluki’s probably my favorite brother, somehow, but I think that says more about the rest of my family than about Milluki.

“You got hurt?”

I groan as Illumi’s face pops into the little window between kitchen and bar.

“He got burnt, Illu, what does it look like?” Milluki says, waving at me from his safe position on the customer side of the bar.

“What? Killua got burnt?” Alluka, my favorite sister, appears from behind the bar, holding three glasses. “Kalluto, I found them!” She yells into the kitchen.

Kalluto apparates into the room from god knows where and stares at me.

“Killua, did you use that sunscreen I gave you?” Kite speaks up from his seat at the bar. I didn’t use the sunscreen. He’s a mortician. It kinda freaks me out. I figure anything he’s doing is calculated to kill me quick so he can get more business, but Gon adores him and hopes he’ll marry Ging, so I took the sunscreen.

“I forgot.”

Ging points at me. I wonder when he last washed the clothes he’s wearing, and if being a plumber involves as much shit as I think it does. “Listen to Kite, kid. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, I know, I just forgot. Can I go upstairs now? Is there anyone else who needs to know about my condition?”

I should’ve known better than to ask.

“What condition?” Asks a silky-smooth voice from the doorway as the bell jingles, announcing the arrival of a new customer.

“How did you even _hear_ that through the door?” I gripe, turning to see Hisoka the Unwelcome Clownman, aka Illumi’s boyfriend.

“Good ears,” he says, tapping the shell of his ear to emphasize his point. He rolls in. Lord help me, the first time I saw him zipping around on rollerskates, I thought the world was ending. I didn’t know true fear until I saw Hisoka grinning and heading towards me _on_ _wheels_. I am not ashamed to say that my heart froze for a minute.

“Please stop using them.” I grab Gon and tug him towards the stairs. He waves at Kite on his way up. “Thank god we didn’t see my mom –”

“What about me?”

“Why are you standing at the top of the stairs?” I yell. “Why is everyone _here_?”

“Why are you so sunburnt? Didn’t you use that sunscreen Mr. Freecs gave you?”

“Kite gave it to me, not Ging.”

“Aren’t they married?”

“Not yet!” Gon interjects. “Soon, though, if I have anything to say about it. And I do.”

“Will they listen to you?”

“I hope so, I’ve got some good ideas! Next time you talk to either of them, see if you can worm out their favorite colors. It would be cute to get them flowers in their favorite colors for their wedding, don’t you think?”

My mother clasps her hands. “Oh, that _would_ be sweet – unless their favorite colors were orange and red, but – well, we could do something with that, too.”

“Shh, don’t get too loud, they’re right downstairs, and Ging has better hearing than he should,” Gon tells her, lowering his voice.

“They’re here, now? I’ll go ask now, then.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Zoldyck!”

“No problem, Gon. My pleasure.” She floats down the stairs.

“Gon, you work _miracles_ ,” I mutter as I haul him into the bathroom.

“I know.”

I drop the towel as I stand in front of the mirror.

Gon giggles.

“It’s not funny.”

“It kinda is.”

I’m bright red, head to toe, except the pink skin under my trunks. Even that is pink, not white – the sun got through the cloth.

“Well, it’s gonna be a shitty couple days.”

“Why?”

“I’ve gotten burns like this before – mostly during that summer when you were traveling with your dad – and I can’t do shit until I get better.” I’d never realized how much I counted on Gon for sunscreen reminders until the day after he’d waved goodbye at the airport, when I was sitting on the beach, missing him, making awkward conversation with Palm, and cooking myself like a burger on a hot grill.

“I’ll have to keep you company, then.”

I round on him. “What? No! You – you don’t have to. It’s not gonna be pretty. I’m gonna be lying on the floor, slathered in aloe vera gel. There might be tears, if I can hydrate well enough to squeeze some out. _Definitely_ not how you wanna spend a week.”

“ _Definitely_ how I want to spend a week.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Do you really not want me to be here?”

I don’t think I’ve stopped blushing yet, so I can’t really say that I start blushing. But. “I – that’s not the point.”

“Do you want me here or not, Killua?”

I stare at him in the mirror. He’s staring at me.

Gon, my friend since the age of 12, my crush since the age of 12 ½, is asking me if I want him here or not, and what the hell am I supposed to say to that? “I – well – Gon, that’s – yeah. Ok.”

“What?”

“Yes, I want you here.” It’s so hard to say the words, even though they come so naturally to me, so naturally that they almost slip out on a regular basis.

“Good!” He raises his hand to clap me on the shoulder, and I dodge out of reach, hit the wall, and decide that it is absolutely necessary to remove the left side of my body entirely. I lower myself to the cold tile floor and stay there.

Gon’s face floats over mine. “Killua! I’m so sorry, I forgot! Are you okay?”

“I am going to die.”

“Is there anything I can do? Where’s the aloe?”

“Cabinet under the sink.”

“You’re blocking it with your feet.”

“Chop off my feet.”

“Killua, I’m going to move your feet.”

“My feet are in hell.”

“I’m taking them out.”

His hands are uncomfortably warm, but gentle, when he wraps them around my ankle and lifts my leg aside.

I can’t believe this. I just want to suffer in silence and loneliness, make Gon think I’m a strong, stoic man. I didn’t want this. I can handle myself. He doesn’t have to care for me.

On the other hand, he’s gotten the aloe out, and it looks so green and cold that I can’t imagine why it wasn’t on me twenty minutes ago. I reach for it, but –

I stare determinedly at the ceiling. I am not looking away from the ceiling. I’m not a kid. Why is he doing this? Why is he doing this to me? Why is squeezing the gel onto my legs? Why is he rubbing it in? Coolness spreads up my feet and legs, but I’m pretty sure that’s only because I’ve sucked the heat into my face. _#StopGon2K15_.

I don’t have a turnoff strong enough to help me when he’s busy spreading gel over my stomach. He’s impersonal, clinical, doing his job and moving on. He’s not exactly lingering over my abs. I, on the other hand, am having tea with Satan, and wishing to be anywhere but here, please and thank you.

He moves on to my arms eventually. Maybe things are getting better.

And then he’s putting aloe on my face, and giggling, and, well, shit, is there a person on this earth who can sit there and _not_ laugh when Gon is laughing? I can’t. He laughs as he uses aloe to draw stars on my face. I laugh because he’s laughing. I might have crisped my skin, but hell, Gon’s happy. There’s not a whole lot else in this world that matters to me.

“Sit up, I’ve gotta do your back.”

I ease myself off the floor. A quiet groan escapes me as I stretch the skin on my back in ways it does _not_ want to stretch. God, it _burns_. Fire, searing pain, a burn that stretches over my entire body. “Wait,” I rasp, “put some in my hands, I gotta get my scalp.”

The door swings open and nearly hits Gon.

I watch in the mirror as my dad raises one eyebrow.

“I got roasted.”

“I can see that.”

“Me too.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me, Killua.”

I salute.

“Can you not put on your own aloe?”

“Not on my back.”

“Ah. And you’re doing this in the bathroom because…?”

“Cold floor.”

“Right. I’ll just leave the door open.”

“No! Illumi will come in!”

“He’ll come in anyway.”

“I’ll lock the door.”

“This door locks?”

“Good point.”

He sighs. “I’ll tell Illu he’s not allowed to come in on pain of death. Good?”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll leave the door open.”

“Then he’ll just stand outside the door and talk to me from there – _Dad_!”

He’s gone.

Gon dumps gel in my hands. “I’ll just get your back as fast as possible.”

I rub it into my scalp. My hair is gonna be green by the time I’m done, but at least my head will be cold. I’ll sleep on towels for a little while to save my sheets, and it’ll all be over in a couple days.

“I hear I’m not allowed to come in here? I wonder why that might be?”

“Gon, shut the door,” I order, refusing to lift my eyes to see Illumi in the mirror.

“There’s no need for that, I’m just curious.”

“I don’t know, Illumi. Maybe it’s because you’re creepy.”

“That’s no way to talk to your brother.”

“Gon, _shut the door_.”

I hear it smack into Illumi’s foot. “Killua, be nice.”

“HISOKA!” I scream. “COME GET YOUR BOYFRIEND!”

“Low blow, Killu.”

But I hear the sound of rollerskates on stairs, and within seconds I’m overjoyed to hear the sound of Hisoka’s voice: “Lumi, are you bothering Killu again?”

“No.”

“Come downstairs.”

“No.”

Hisoka begins dragging Illumi towards the stairs. It never fails to shock me how easily Illumi complies with whatever Hisoka asks: it’s not like Illumi couldn’t pull Hisoka back towards the bathroom, especially considering the fact that Hisoka is on wheels.

“Noooooooo.”

“Come on, love.”

“Nooooooooooooo.”

Gon shuts the door.

He returns to my back, and I think he’s gotten less clinical about it. Illumi freaks him out, too. He’s trying to comfort me. I wish I could hold his hand, kiss him, something, but here I am, sunburnt and not dating him.

I close my eyes while he runs his fingers through the gel, softly, gently. It burns a little, but I’m not complaining. I can’t complain, not while he’s giving me a backrub. I’ll deal with the sting.

It helps that he reapplies it three times in ten minutes.

What a wonderful human being he is.

I’m getting drowsy. My back is cool, Gon keeps rubbing aloe on my back and shoulders, Illumi is elsewhere – honestly, I could probably pass out, here and now. My eyes are drooping.

“Gon, I love you,” I mutter as renewed coolness spreads from the small of my back.

Suddenly, I’m not sleepy at all.

“Love you too, Killua. Probably time to get off the floor, though,” Gon says, standing up and taking the aloe with him. “You look a little pale, are you all right?”

How on _earth_ he can see any difference in the color of my face is beyond me, considering the fact that I’m the same color as the Starbucks holiday cup, but either all the blood draining from my face made a noticeable change in my complexion or Gon’s got the best eyesight on the planet.

“I’m good. Should probably go to my room, though. I’m just gonna nap. You can go home.”

“Nah, I’m staying.”

“Gon, you can –”

He holds up a hand. “You can waste energy arguing, or you can accept it. Or you can say you actually don’t want me here. But if you don’t say it, I’m not leaving.”

I could say it. It would be that easy. I’d just – open my mouth, and say it. Bam. Done. So easy. Sooooo easy. So easy to say _Gon, I don’t want you here_. Just say it. _Gon, I don’t want you to stay with me._ I could – “Fine, but if you wake me up, I will personally toss you out the window, sunburn or no.” I can’t say it. I can’t tell Gon I don’t want him. It would be the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

He grins at me. “All right. Why are you taking towels with you?”

“So I don’t get aloe all over my sheets.”

“Won’t it be scratchy, lying on towels?”

“Yeah.”

“Won’t that hurt?”

“Yeah.”

“Aloe won’t ruin your sheets.”

“If it soaks through and hits the mattress – can’t clean a mattress.”

Gon frowns. I can practically see the wheels turning in his brain and the smoke pouring out of his ears. I’m the only reason he’s passed a single class since we hit high school. Except gym. He could pass gym in his sleep. One glance at that physique and any gym teacher would pass him without turning a hair. Not that he slept through gym. We had gym together all four years and we made the _best_ team. I was all for teaming up with Kurapika and Leorio every time, because Kurapika might _seem_ nice but he’s nearly as competitive as I am and Leorio might _seem_ useless but he’s more competitive than I am, but Gon always nixed that plan. We’d split up, me and Gon on one team, Kurapika and Leorio on the other, and we’d fill out our team with the Useless Kids – the ones who would duck if the ball came near them, the ones who couldn’t concentrate long enough to hit the ball, et cetera – so that we could cover for them.

Gon’s always been an angel.

Except for now, when he’s dodging in front of me and tearing the sheets off my bed.

“What are you _doing_?” I yelp.

He takes the towels from my hands. “They’re not too thick. We could probably wrap them around the mattress and put the sheets on over them. Then you could sleep on the sheets without worrying about the mattress!”

He turns to me, this delighted grin on his face, and I get the worst urge to kiss him I’ve ever gotten. “That’s genius, Gon.”

“Anything for Killua,” he says happily, turning back to the bed, utterly oblivious to the way my heart tries to jump out of my throat.

He practically helps me into bed once he’s done, and then he turns on the fan, turns off the lights, and leaves the room.

Did he leave?

He wouldn’t, right? Why would he? He insisted on staying. He wouldn’t leave me, right?

This is ridiculous. I’m the one who told him to leave in the first place, what am I complaining about? My fuckin heartache isn’t a good enough reason to complain about him leaving.

_Calm the fuck down, Zoldyck._

The door opens.

_Not Illumi please not Illumi please –_

It’s Gon, with a glass of water and the bottle of aloe.

My heart balloons to a far bigger size than can possibly be healthy.

I grin at him, and he grins at me, but neither of us speak. He just opens up the aloe and starts slathering me up again. And that’s how I fall asleep – in the dimness of a bedroom in the afternoon, on soft sheets, the sounds of the kitchen underneath me, with a cool breeze from the fan and the steady relief of Gon aloe-ing me up.

I sleep better than I have in years.

 

The next couple days are much the same: Gon’s always there, I spend my time either on the bathroom floor or in my bed, I take six cold baths while Gon sits outside and talks to me through the closed door, and every time I wake up and see Gon sleeping in a chair next to my bed I want to reach over, run my fingers through his hair, caress his cheek, kiss his lips, forehead, chin, anywhere and everywhere I can reach, and suddenly I’m busy taking another cold bath.

I’m realizing that, while this sunburn is hellish, it is a very, very good excuse for things which would otherwise be inexplicable. For instance, my constant blushing. Or the heated way I look at Gon, which he’s begun to notice, thanks to the fact that we are right next to each other in my most vulnerable moments, when I’m waking up and falling asleep. Or my constant need for a cold bath.

Over the past couple days, shit has gotten _real_.

Before this, I was always in love with Gon. For years, I’ve been ogling him in the way that gay teenage boys are wont to do when presented with someone like Gon. A week ago, I was in love with and sexually attracted to this Broccoli Boy.

The only thing that’s changed, really, is that suddenly, he seems _accessible._

For a couple years, I thought he was straight. Then I knew he was gay, but not into me. I’ve lived like that for years, perfectly willing to accept that Gon was going to grow up, date some other boy, marry some other boy, live with some other boy, while I slowly got over him and married someone else, and lived with and loved them while constantly nursing this little hole in my heart where Gon used to live. I was all right with that. Not happy, but all right.

Now – now, here he is, with me constantly, even more than he was when we were boys, taking care of me, touching me all the time, murmuring “ _roll over_ ” when he decides it’s time to aloe my other side, and suddenly, I can’t even breathe when I see him because _I could – maybe – he might – could he –_

And I _hate_ it.

Life is hard enough without this.

 

The clock says that it’s 2 A.M.

I try to blink the haze from my eyes, but it doesn’t work, and honestly, it probably doesn’t matter. It’s too dark to see much of anything.

I close my eyes again. I’m tired as hell. Must’ve woken up in the middle of a REM cycle, for some reason – my brain feels foggy, strange, gross. I also feel foggy, strange, and gross, for that matter.

The door creaks open, and I struggle to sit up. A dark figure sneaks in, and I hear something sloshing.

Gon freezes when he turns around to see me sitting up. “You’re awake!” He whispers. “Sorry!”

I wave him off. “’S na your faul,” I slur.

He steps confidently around the piles of stuff on my floor and makes it to his chair without mishap, rearranging the blankets he’s accumulated. “I refilled your glass of water,” he murmurs.

“T’anks,” I hum, leaning forward to kiss him. _He’s so nice,_ I think as my lips meet his. And then:

_Screaming_. In my head, there is screaming. There are sirens. I am no longer tired. The haze is gone from my eyes. Can I do damage control? How do I come back from _that_? Oh _god_ I’ve just wrecked six years of friendship –

Gon’s fingers touch my cheekbone.

My brain flatlines.

His hand curves around my cheek.

My heart flatlines.

Gon leans in.

I can’t even breathe. What is he doing?

“ _Do you want me to kiss you_?”

His thumb is brushing my cheekbone. His face is so close to mine and he’s asking _that_ and I just –

I nod.

“You have to say it, Killua.”

“I – I have morning breath.”

Gon snorts. “Killua, _I don’t care_.”

“Y-yes.”

He kisses me, gently, and I –

When he pulls away, I practically dive on him, I’m kissing him, I, Killua Zoldyck, am kissing Gon Freecss, and my hands are in his hair, and he’s smiling, and I can’t get enough of him, of Gon, of _Gon_ –

Somehow, by some stroke of luck, I hear it. By some other stroke of luck, I interpret it correctly. By a third, probably undeserved, stroke ofluck, I guess, and I guess the right answer.

As fast as I dove on Gon, I’m scrambling away, waving at him to stay where he is, lying down in bed, regulating my breathing, turning my face away –

The door creaks open.

Gon nearly gets up – I can hear the chair creak, signaling a shift in his weight – but he thinks better of it, and turns around. “Did you want something?” He whispers at my dad.

“I heard noise.”

“I got up to get more water, and when I came back, I tripped over Killua’s shoes. Sorry for waking you up.”

“I’m surprised Killu didn’t wake up.”

“Being burned like that will do that to a guy.”

There’s no way I’d manage to stay asleep during this whole conversation.

I mock-struggle onto my elbows, hiss as the sheets scrape my skin, and flip my hair back out of my eyes. “Can I _sleep_?”

Silva’s bright hair dips. “Of course, Killu.”

He shuts the door behind him.

I hold up a hand for Gon to be quiet.

Several minutes pass before I hear the creak that signals that Dad is standing in front of his door again.

I sit up, grab Gon’s hand, tug him into bed with me. Kiss him. Because I can do that, suddenly. Suddenly, I can kiss Gon.

I can’t tell if my brain is shutting down because _Gon_ or because _sleep_ , but either way, within approximately twelve seconds I’m just sorta breathing on him. He’s giggling, though, so it must be okay.

“I think I’m gonna fall asleep.”

“Okay.” He begins crawling out of bed.

I grab his arm. “Stay?”

He pauses.

“If that’s okay,” I add.

He stays, curled up under the blankets like a rock, an extra-large space heater just for me.

 

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” A cheerful voice yells.

I blink against the sudden light streaming in from the hallway. Alluka stands in the doorway.

“Dad made a stack of pancakes taller than I am, you gotta come see – where’s Gon?”

Illumi appears behind her. “Gon’s gone?”

I can feel the flush setting in.

Behind me, Gon stirs.

The bed creaks as he sits up.

“Pancakes?” He yawns.

I wiggle back under the blankets.

Alluka’s screaming, but I think she’s happy. Illumi’s already gone, probably to bring backup. The entire family’s gonna be in here, even if it means burning burgers and letting Meruem’s Pasta Palace across the street win in terms of reviews for the day. He usually does, but today, we might willingly _let_ him win, just so the whole family can tell me point-blank what they think of my new relationship.

But, then again, I’m in a relationship.

I can feel Gon’s hand resting against my back for support as my dad makes his presence known.

My heart grows three sizes as I listen to Gon stutter out something about _uh, no sir, no, we – uh – no. No._

Life is good, sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other side of the AU

Somewhere, sometime, in a universe so far away that the distance cannot be measured in time or space or any other unit of measurement we know of – in that place, at that time, Louise Belcher cackled.

“I _told_ you I could get a bunny!” She shrieked happily as her bunny jumped circles around Gene.

“It’s got nothing on my SPEED OF SONIC FART BOMB!” Gene yelled back.

Louise’s bunny opened its mouth, showcasing three rows of razor-sharp teeth and a gaping maw big enough to swallow Gene himself.

“It’s got quite a bit on my SPEED OF SONIC FART BOMB!” Gene yelled.

Louise Belcher cackled.

“Does it eat zombies?” Tina asked.

“No one’s gonna eat your zombie, Tina,” Bob answered. “Louise, put your rabbit away. Your nen isn’t strong yet. Don’t overwork yourself.”

“It’s a BUNNY!” She shrieked, but the bunny disappeared. “And it’s gonna eat all your perfect burgers! Every one! Every time you conjure one! It’s a CARNIVOROUS BUNNY!”

“So – a carnivorous bun? People don’t eat burgers with carnivorous buns,” Bob chuckled.

“Dad, that was awful. Stop talking.”

“I thought it was funny, dad, no matter what Louise says,” Tina reassured him.

“Thanks, kids.”

Linda smacked his shoulder. “It’s all right, if it gets out of control, I’ll bomb it!” She threw back her head and cackled.

The three children filed past her into the house.

“Wait, where are you going?” She called as the lock clicked shut. “I’m kidding! You know I won’t bomb anyone’s pets! I like the rabbit! We can call him trash king!”  


End file.
